


Shelter from the Storm

by mswyrr



Category: Spirited
Genre: Canon Het Relationship, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Erotica, F/M, Ghost Sex, Ghosts, Het, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, POV Male Character, Psychic Abilities, Romance, Smells, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-27
Updated: 2011-08-27
Packaged: 2017-10-23 03:16:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/245697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mswyrr/pseuds/mswyrr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pre-2x01, Henry has some clever ideas for getting around the limits of his condition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shelter from the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> aquandrian did a fantastic job as beta on this fic. It's a far better, more enjoyable story because of her help. Big thanks to her! And thanks also to [maerad for helping me get Suzy's voice right! And to sallyella for helping with Henry. :)

Henry stared up at the darkened ceiling of their bedroom. He really liked thinking of it as 'theirs'. When he'd started throwing possessives around--calling the flat 'our home,' her private space 'our bedroom'--he felt like he had got away with something every time Suzy let it pass without comment. Henry couldn't take up physical space in her life, but he _belonged_. He could claim his place word by word. The first time Suzy asked him what 'we' should do about something, he felt alive. And happy enough to float off.

When her bedroom became _theirs_ he'd thought it was an invitation to mess around. It hadn't worked out that way. By the time she got into bed, Suzy was usually exhausted. She'd fall asleep within minutes. It made Henry feel guilty about trying anything -- she needed her rest. And there was something intimidating about her outside of a dream. Henry had always been more comfortable with assertive women. Ones who'd sidle up to him, grab his arse, and say " _fuck me_ , Henry." Women who knew where they wanted him and would claw his eyes out if he didn't make them come first. But shy girls like Suze? They were a little terrifying. Sweet as hell once you got them going, but easy to mishandle.

As the weeks passed and nothing happened, he got used to frustration. It was actually something special -- the first time he'd just _slept_ with a woman. But tonight was different. Suzy had been tossing and turning for the past half hour. It seemed like a golden opportunity. If he tried something now, it would be practically _medicinal_.

"Can't sleep?" he asked, turning to face her.

She sighed. "Can't stop thinking," she grumbled, punching her pillow. "Did I wake you?"

"Nah, been woolgathering." He reached out and stroked the air just above her cheek. She said there was a cool tingle when he did that.

She smiled.

"I've got an idea," he said.

"Hot milk?" she asked innocently.

It made him feel like a real lech, but he kept on. "Not... exactly," he said. "Uh, if I asked you to try something, would you...?" Henry winced. He was making a hash of it already. _Confidence_ was sexy. He didn't sound confident. He sounded like a fucking idiot.

Suzy's brow furrowed. "Try what exactly?"

She wanted to know before agreeing. Not very trusting, was his Suze. He ought to be bothered by that, but it was so endearingly _her_. "Right," he said. "Well, in my day," he threw her a wry look, "when dinosaurs roamed the earth, we had a little thing called phone sex -- but you've probably moved on from that. What do you have now the, ah... 'sexting'? With your," he wiggled his thumbs, "little mobiles?"

She looked dubious. "Yes. But, erm, Henry, I've never done any of that," she said, sounding turned off by the idea. "How would _we_ even do that?"

"Oh! No. I didn't mean for us, to... no." Henry winced again, feeling like a total naffer. "Sorry. Stupid of me. I meant, ah." The more he talked, the more confused Suzy looked so he brought his rambling idiocy to a stop and regrouped.

Suzy was kind enough to let him catch his breath without comment. She was more sympathetic to someone committing social suicide than most, he supposed.

"Right," he said. "What I'm saying is that there are... _things_ in this time like," he spread his hands, "sexting and, ah... video! You have video phones, don't you? Fantastic invention. And people... people who are living far away or--or they're spicing things up, they use these things to connect. We're not that different, are we?"

Her confusion had cleared and she seemed intrigued. "You're saying that what we have is like a long distance relationship?"

"Yeah. Of sorts, yeah. Exactly!"

She nodded, smiled at him. "I like that. It's nice to think about it like that. But I'm not sure what this has to do with what you wanted to try?"

"Uh, yeah. See, you've got things like video phones. People keep in touch with each other that way and sometimes... have _video sex_ , right? Which is what? Nothing but a couple of lonely lovers gazing at each other across the distance, with only their voices to connect them..." Here he propped himself up on his elbow. He moved his hand to rest near hers on the blankets. "Not that different from us," he repeated and it came out just right. Inviting. A little sultry. Somewhere along the way his confidence had kicked in. About bloody time!

Suzy licked her lips. Looked from his face to his hand and back. "We would... look at each other?" She seemed to like that idea.

Henry nodded. "And talk."

"Oh." She bit her lip. "You should know... I've never been very good at that sort of thing. Talking dirty."

Henry raised his brows. "Really? Because I seem to remember a conversation about French cheese and lesbian kisses that made a good start of it." He grinned at her, waggled his brows. "Did it for me."

"But that's not really the same," she said.

"Isn't it?"

"I don't think so. Don't you-- with the real thing, don't you have to say certain things...?" she made a moué of disgust. "Phrases and... words? About," she shifted awkwardly, " _body parts_. And I just... I would prefer not to, Henry." It was a firm sentence, but she gave him such an imploring look when she said it that he felt like a bully for even having brought the topic up. She looked disappointed with herself and anxious with him.

How had everything gone to shit so suddenly?

"Even if we tried, honestly, I've never been good at it. _Really awful_ , in fact," she said, trying an awkward little self-deprecating laugh.

Hearing that, it finally clicked in his head what was wrong. Henry had what he thought of as a Steve Moment. It was a feeling he got when he noticed another thing fifteen years with Steve had done to make Suze unhappy. When he was having a Steve Moment, Henry had to fight the urge to pull a poltergeist on the stupid prick the next time he came over. It helped to imagine taking deep breaths during a Steve Moment.

"That so," Henry said after a couple breaths. "But what if we were rebels about it?"

Suzy blinked. "Rebels?"

"Yeah," he said, warming to the idea. "We could have ourselves a 'quiet riot,' maybe? Tell the masses and the critics to shove off and do things _our way_."

Suzy laughed. "Um, okay. But what would 'our way' be, exactly?"

Henry lowed his voice and tried to sound tempting. "It'd be just you and me. Saying what we like. However we like. Making each other happy."

She looked dubious. "Isn't that just regular conversation?"

"Nah. It's the subject matter that's key," he said. Then he went out on a limb. "I might ask how you like to touch yourself, for instance." He really hoped that wasn't going to scare her off.

"Oh," she said, blinking. "That's... okay." She gave him a nervous smile. "I might like that. Except, uh, I don't touch myself that much."

Henry tilted his head. "That so," he muttered, trying to not sound judgmental. But he was a little mystified by how she could stand the frustration without a good wank. But, then again, when did she get the time now that he'd moved into her bedroom? "It's not because me and the others have been around, is it?" he asked, feeling guilty. He had hours during the day for some private time, but she was always surrounded by people. And if not people, ghosts. What a nightmare.

"Oh! No. No. It's not that. It's the... act itself. I've tried, but it feels so awkward... being alone and trying to make myself feel like that. I use to do it before I had the real thing, and it was okay, but after..." she kind of frowned. "I feel so self-conscious," she admitted.

Hearing her talk about straight up sex like it was the only _real_ option stung a bit. He could never give her that. Never be that real. But he'd wanted her to open up. Couldn't hold it against her if he didn't like what he heard. Besides, she'd given him a good clue about seducing her. From what she'd said, all he had to do was get her hot enough that she wouldn't feel so self-conscious... without touching her besides a tingly stroke or a puff of breath. It was a challenge, but he _had_ made a good living by his ability to move people with words.

"But it was good before?"

"Yeah. Pretty good."

"Right then. Just between you and me," he gave her a saucy grin, lowered his voice to a sexy whisper, "how'd you like it, Darling?" He'd never been one for saccharine endearments, but her surname was a handy dodge. She was his Darling. Literally. No shame in that. On the other hand, he'd have to resurrect and then kill himself if he ever got the urge to call her his 'honeybunny' or the like.

"Oh! Um. I used one of these." She touched the pillow beneath his head. "I'd lie on my side like I am now," she said, "slip it between my knees and just," she gave a demonstrative wiggle of her hips, "rub."

Watching her wiggle like that got his cock interested for the first time in this careful little seduction. It was really good and really awful, too, because it made him want nothing more than to just fucking _kiss_ her and _touch_ her. Feel her legs around him, taste her sweat. And not a fucking bit of that was going to happen. Ever.

Jesus Christ! Most fucked up thing in the history of fucked up things, indeed. But, fuck it. He'd take what he could get and be thankful.

"Why don't you show me," he said and was surprised at his voice. He sounded like he felt -- desperate and longing. "What you use to do. You could try it with my pillow," he added, the idea of sleeping where she'd been making him want to touch himself. He still had a rather good sense of smell, after all. He resisted the urge, though, not wanting to start up until she was well enough into things that he wouldn't lose her. "'Cuz, _Christ_ , Suze... you're fucking gorgeous when you wiggle your arse like that."

Apparently having him look at her like a thirsty man begging for a drink of water really did it for her. Her lips parted and she seemed to glow with pride. "I could take off my top, too?" she offered, testing the waters.

Since she seemed to like making him weak, he stopped even trying to sound cool and just said, "Fuck, yes. _Please_."

She grinned and twisted to pull off the top of her jim-jams. They were one of the cute pairs she had: sky blue with little yellow duckies on. It was a testament to how hard he'd fallen for her that he thought she was sexy in them.

She pulled the top off over her head and threw it across the room, obviously feeling a bit wild. Then she leaned back against the pillows and looked up at him shyly, taking in his reaction.

Henry's mind went a little dizzy. Somewhere his Church of England upbringing whispered _my darling, my dove, my flawless one_ as he admired her breasts. They were so fucking perfect. Small and high with peachy-pink tips.

It fucking _hurt_ to see her and not touch her.

"You're perfect," he said. "You're so fucking... Christ, Suzy. I've been wanting to see whether your nipples would tighten up for me if I just..." he brushed his fingers over her left breast, circling it lightly. If his hands felt cool and tingly to her, well... just maybe. It might work.

She gasped, arching up. Her own hand came up to stroke herself. He went to work on her other breast, leaning down to blow on it.

"You should wear nothing more often," he murmured.

She laughed. "What would the patients say?" she asked, her eyes so happy as her fingers moved over her skin and his breath gave her goose-bumps.

"I don't know about the birds," he said, "but the blokes would be too distracted by you leaning over them to say much at all," he assured her.

He trailed his fingers down her stomach, above her skin. He circled her navel and leaned up to blow on a spot just beneath her ear. He was trying to make the most of being such one trick fucking pony -- trying to be grateful he could talk and do this for her.

"Henry," she said. She looked adorably flustered. "Let me just..." she gestured and he moved over. She grabbed his pillow, gave him a saucy look and crushed it to her chest, looking suddenly shy.

"You want me to just...?"

"Yeah," he breathed. "With your kit off?" he suggested, looking down at her comfy jim-jam bottoms.

"Oh. Isn't that a little... unhygienic? Maybe I should use the body pillow?"

"It's not just unhygienic, Suze. It's _fucking dirty_ ," he said. " _Good_ dirty," he added, clarifying in case she'd missed the way he was practically panting at the idea.

She sort of squirmed, clutching the pillow to her chest harder. "But won't you be able to smell... me? After."

Henry nodded vigorously. "Exactly. Right up against my face. Wanna get the full Suzy sense experience."

"Oh. Oh!" Her eyes widened. "You mean you actually _like_ the... You like... uh," she looked fascinated. " _Really_?" she whispered, like he'd just confessed to dressing up in frilly knickers or something.

"Think of it this way," he said, "I've never had much use for sweets, but I'm a big fan of your more... savory flavors."

Suzy raised her hand to her mouth, suppressing a shocked laugh. "Are you comparing... cunnilingus to eating French cheese?"

"Pretty much," Henry shrugged. "It's no coincidence the French are known for both."

"Henry. That is... absolutely filthy," she said, giving him a smirk.

"Like that, do you?"

"Yesss," she gasped. "Oh, yes. It's very... All right. Just let me..." she twisted, pulling off her jim-jam bottoms. She had on pretty pink knickers with lace. They came off next, sliding down her smooth legs.

Henry groaned at the sight of her pert little bum. He put his palm over her sweet arse, watched her quiver under his touch. With his other hand he stroked himself through his trousers.

Her eyelids fluttered and she made this little keening sound. Quickly she had the pillow between her legs and she was riding that like... fuck. Henry drew his hand back to unbutton his trousers.

Suzy opened her eyes. "Don't... don't stop," she said. " _Touch me_ , Henry."

Henry got himself unzipped and returned to feeling up her bottom. He watched her twisting and rubbing against the pillow, making delicious noises. Her hand came down and started rubbing her clit. He stroked his cock, matching her rhythm, imagining himself inside her.

She got wound tighter and tighter, finger-fucking herself against the pillow. When they were both just about to get off, Henry slid down and nuzzled her pussy, smelling her, wishing he could taste.

She said, "Henry! Oh, god, Henry," and cried out, shuddering all over. As the orgasm worked its way through her, he rested his head against the pillow between her thighs and finished himself off. When he was done, coming all over himself, he looked up. Suzy was staring down at him.

She lifted the hand she'd just been finger-fucking herself with and touched the air just near his cheek. He turned his face into her touch, imagining he could feel her.

Soon enough she disentangled, getting out of bed. He watched as she bent to grab her jammies, enjoying the view. She cast him a coy look over her shoulder.

Henry blew her a kiss.

With a giggle, Suzy darted off to clean up.

Henry lay back on the bed, feeling like a fucking _rock star_ for the first time since he'd died. Fucking high on life. It was like someone had electricity running all over his skin. So fucking good. Jesus CHRIST. He and Suzy were _fucking_. Or as near to it as they could get. Fucking _finally_. And it was better than he'd hoped. She was so... delighted by everything. Such a peach. He wanted to just carol the word "fuck" out into the world in bliss. I've finally fooled around with my girlfriend, he thought giddily, thank fuck!

How had they gone so long without doing this? It was like standing around hungry while a buffet was right there waiting. Well, now that they'd popped their cherry together, there wasn't anything stopping them. There was a good thought. He could make a mission of seducing her out of her prim knickers at every chance.

When she got back, looking adorably disheveled in her nightclothes, Henry said, "Will I do as a sleep aid, then?" He gave her an innocent look, "How do I rate against hot milk?"

Suzy snorted back a laugh. "Shove over a bit, please," she said, moving to straighten her side of the bed.

Henry rolled aside obligingly. "I'll be wanting my pillow back," he said. "Now that you're done defiling it," he added, smirking.

She tried to seem unaffected by his teasing, but he could see the corners of her lips twitch. When she tossed his pillow over, he decided to up the ante. He buried his face in it and groaned, breathing her in.

He heard her draw in a sharp breath at the sight. A minute later, the bed shifted as she pulled back the covers and climbed in.

He turned to look at her. "You smell better than coffee," he said.

That finally did it. She smiled widely, ducking her head. It was too dark to say for sure, but he thought she was blushing. She cleared her throat. "Thank you," she said primly, as if he'd just complimented her blouse. She was obviously trying to keep some dignity here.

Henry was feeling high on this new power. Making her hot was great fun! He gazed up at her, stroking his cheek against the pillow like a cat looking for a cuddle.

Suzy watched him, swallowing hard. Shifting uncomfortably, she _tsked_ at him. She was such a prissy librarian sometimes, bless her. "If you keep making a show of that," she confessed, "I'll never get to sleep."

"Would that be so bad?" Henry asked, hoping to entice her into another round.

"Ah. Um." She sighed, "Yes." Her eyes went to the clock on her bedside table: it was already one in the morning. "Busy day tomorrow," she said apologetically.

He didn't want her feeling bad about anything that had happened tonight, or anything that hadn't, so he stopped making a spectacle of himself with the pillow. "Right," he said.

He must have sounded as disappointed as he felt, because she gave him a sweet smile. "This was wonderful," she said and looked at him like he was the most amazing thing in her life. It made him remember another time, when she'd said as much, straight out. And another, when she'd said 'I love you.' He suddenly felt full to bursting with happiness.

"You were brilliant," he said. Then: "Close your eyes for me?"

Unlike earlier, she didn't ask him to explain what he was up to. She just settled down in the bed, closed her eyes and waited.

Soft and low, Henry sang bits and pieces of _[Shelter from the Storm](http://youtu.be/CnXP2NQxpeE)_. He skipped over the sad parts, focusing on the lines about joy in a place where it's always safe and warm. When her breathing evened out, he turned toward the darker things he hadn't wanted her to think about. "I came in from the wilderness," he said quietly, more whispering than singing now, "a creature void of form." He felt his breath catch at that, such a perfect description of him now. He hoped what they had would be enough for them. That he could be enough for her tomorrow and all the days after. A creature void of form.

He leaned back then. She was all around him in the dark silence of the room. The sound of her breath was a benediction, the smell of her an embrace. He let himself forget everything else. He slept in that embrace.

**Author's Note:**

> Then there's the two  
> of us. This word  
> is far too short for us, it has only  
> four letters, too sparse  
> to fill those deep bare  
> vacuums between the stars  
> that press on us with their deafness.  
> It's not love we don't wish  
> to fall into, but that fear.  
> This word is not enough but it will  
> have to do. It's a single  
> vowel in this metallic  
> silence, a mouth that says  
> O again and again in wonder  
> and pain, a breath, a finger  
> grip on a cliffside. You can  
> hold on or let go.  
> \--Margaret Atwood, "Variations on the Word Love"


End file.
